


boundaries (and how theyre learned)

by bajabastard



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Drabble, Gen, Not Beta Read, Overprotective, Overprotectiveness, author is salty about a trope and wrote a fic about it, i hardly edited this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bajabastard/pseuds/bajabastard
Summary: Rung is perfectly capable of speaking for himself, thank you very much.





	boundaries (and how theyre learned)

**Author's Note:**

> look. i just really dont like the trope where one person is really overprotective of the other to the point of being controlling and everyones just like "this is fine"
> 
> thats it. thats the fic. its salt.

Skids had had a very strange day. It had started when he woke up in an unfamiliar cargo bay, surrounded by small organics that were convinced that he was their prophesied Savior and had just gotten weirder from there. He’d had a long day and he was eager to take a break from all the bullshit that seemed to follow him and just go get a drink at swerves. Or maybe a few drinks. 

He was on his third pint of engex and had just finished a conversation with Nautica, on the ideal distillation process for Black Label engex, when Skids noticed someone a couple tables over. Distracting himself had been nice but honestly he just wanted to talk to someone about the absolute nonsense he had just lived through, and Rung seemed like the perfect person for that. 

He made his way over to the table Rung was sitting at with less than his usual grace. He glanced around the rest of the table, just enough to determine that there were in fact other people sitting here too but not actually discerning who they were. He pulled out a chair next to Rung and inelegantly draped himself over it. 

“Skids! How good to see you!” Rung was nursing what was probably his first drink of the night, a weak engex spritzer, still mostly full. 

“Runggg! Just the mech I wanted to see! You would not believe the day I’ve had.” A mech not quite as overcharged as Skids was may have noticed the slight grimace that briefly flashed across Rung’s face as Skids launched into a rant about everything that had happened to him that day, in less than modest detail. 

Skids was in the middle of explaining a four way firefight that he had been thrust into when he suddenly became aware of the identity of one of the other mechs at the table. Whirl, who had previously been folded down in on himself to the size of a normal mech, unfurled into his usual large, lankey silhouette. 

Skids found himself very loomed over in what was probably meant to be an intimidating manner, and in that regard absolutely hit its mark. Whirl pointed a claw at him accusatorially. 

“Hey  _ pal _ I don’t know if you noticed,” Whirl swayed unsteadily and paused to catch himself on the table. “But Rung here is currently trying to enjoy an evening off and you’re not helping.” His optic narrowed menacingly. “So I suggest you get lost before I have to help.” 

It was an open secret that Whirl was massively crushing on Rung and Skids was not a fan of the idea of putting himself on the receiving end of drunk-Whirl’s ire. On the other hand (claw?) who he talked to was his business and he had just gotten settled here and didn’t want to get up again. 

Before he could come to a conclusion about what to do Rung himself had piped up. “Whirl! I appreciate the sentiment but I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself who I want to talk to. In fact I was just about to inform Skids here that, while I appreciate his company, I am off duty and if he wishes to talk to me he should do so as my friend.” The last statement was directed at Skids, who felt accordingly chagrined. Rung turned back to Whirl. “You are not my guardian, nor do I want you to be.” 

Skids, who was sitting between the two of them as this exchange happened, suddenly wished he was anywhere else. Crush or no, Whirl didn’t take kindly to being corrected and was prone to violent outbursts, especially while drunk. On his other side Rung’s straight backed posture indicated that he had not backed down and did not intend to. 

Whirl went silent and Skids braced himself for the worst, if it came to it he could probably keep Rung from getting the brunt of Whirl’s anger. He carefully strategized what he would do when Whirl inevitably….

Agreed? His posture had deflated to mimic Skids’ own apologetic bearing from moments ago. “Oh. Uh. Yeah, that's- yeah, my bad.” He folded himself back into his seat. “Hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

Rung didn’t seem in the least bit surprised, as if standing down and admitting his mistakes was a thing that could be routinely expected of Whirl. In fact he arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. “I believe you owe Skids an apology as well.” 

Skids, who was already shocked, openly gaped as Whirl turned to him, one claw absently rubbing at the back of his neck. “Shouldn’ta done that. Sorry.” 

Skids didn’t respond, too busy processing what had just happened in front of him. Conversation slowly picked up around him as he stared blankly at the table. 

Skids had had an incredibly bizarre day, and it appeared it wasn’t over yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 
> 
> constructive criticism/feedback/letters claiming to be my long lost bastard son are always welcome!


End file.
